Meme Announcements!
Oct. 29th, 2011 12:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ANNOUNCEMENTS: UPDATED 12/16/2017
Happy Holidays, fellow Kinkmemers! I have returned and have no reasonable excuse for my absence except LIFE. I will be working on updating the archives. If anyone sees anything amiss, please let me know.
I am also hoping to find another Mod and an Archivist.
The more dedicated people we have in this Meme the less chance of it dying. I admit that being the sole keeper of the Meme is not great for the fandom. If something were to happen to me, for good, this place would go the way of the Fallout Kink Meme. Let's not let that happen! If anyone would be interested in Modding/Archiving, please drop me a line. Thanks! <3
Re: Fire and Potions - 71/?
Date: 2015-01-19 08:16 am (UTC)Farengar’s bones hummed with intense vibration as the power of magicka filled the air.
His breath caught in his throat as he watched the circle overhead come to a close.
The circle completed and in the blink of an eye, the sky opened up, raining fire on Solitude. A whistle in the air nearly deafened him as a ball of fire the size of a dragon broke apart into three smaller sections, punching through the roof of the Bard’s College nearby. The top half of the building was destroyed, causing its ruins to be sent crashing into the street below.
Another whistle filled his ears, impossibly loud. Before Farengar could tear his gaze from the devastation, he grunted in surprise as he tumbled across the roof, tackled in Therion’s grasp. Tiles and chunks of burning roof rained down on them both as they rolled, while the deafening roar of explosion filled his ears.
What remained of the roof shook violently, impossible to hold onto as fire struck down all around them.
Farengar and Therion slid down the roof, scrambling for purchase as they fell helplessly toward the edge. Farengar barely managed to grab hold of the edge, his legs swinging precariously over as he grasped the blue tiles hard enough to make his hands ache. Loose shingles fell around him, hurtling toward the ground far below. Dragging himself up by his elbows, he looked up to see Therion, holding onto the hilt of his Akaviri Dai-Katana, driven deep into the roof top.
Therion reached for him, stretching himself out while bracing one hand on the sword hilt.
Farengar stretched out his hand, his fingertips barely touching Therion’s as the rooftop was blasted under another volley, jarring him violently under the impact.
Farengar fell back, staring up into the surreal inferno roiling overhead. Therion was shouting something distantly over the din of screams and destruction.
A sudden pain in his shoulder struck him, his descent stopping as suddenly as it had started. Therion was suddenly and impossibly dangling above him, grasping his hand. The Dragonborn was clinging onto the edge of the roof, both of them hanging from his grip.
“What do you think you’re doing?! Save yourself!” Farengar shouted, watching the elf grit his teeth under the strain.
Therion spared a moment to glare down at him.
“As if I would,” he snarled indignantly.
“The sky will explode at any moment. This,” Farengar said, looking down at the breadth of destruction, “Is nothing. A prelude. Shout yourself ethereal!”
“I can’t use my thu’um again so quickly,” Therion grunted, sweat dripping down the back of his neck. “I froze time to catch you. So, as fun as it sounds to let you fall to your death, I’m afraid the options are die together, or find another way out.”
Farengar snorted, amused and annoyed that the Dragonborn could be snarky even at a time like this.
Another whistle caused Farengar’s blood to run cold as he snapped his gaze overhead.
The sound of his own pulse filled his ears as abruptly, all other noises faded away. The screams, roaring flames, crumbling buildings - all were absent. Everything was silent, as the world became unearthly still. He watched in fascination as the colors around him faded to gray, and wondered if his life was about to flash before his eyes. Or, if he were already dead, and had yet to realize it.
Overheard, he heard Therion curse softly. He sounded, of all things, irritated.
Looking up, Farengar witnessed the air before Therion shimmer and glow with drifting particles of light. They quickly gathered into the shape of a man, his splendid gold robes billowing as he hung suspended in mid-air.
“Ah, here you are,” Farengar heard the floating man say in a regal voice.
“Quaranir,” Therion replied in a gracious tone, grunting from the strain of holding the two of them aloft. “Despite all odds, I’m happy to see you again.”